


All Bets Are Off

by ManyFandomsOneLog



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Dorks in Love, Fluff, M/M, Swearing, Tartan, Tumblr Prompt, ridiculously soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 14:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19111171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManyFandomsOneLog/pseuds/ManyFandomsOneLog
Summary: From the prompt“I can’t believe you talked me into this”AKA Crowley loses a bet





	All Bets Are Off

**Author's Note:**

> This was from my tumblr, ManyFandomsOneLog

“I can’t believe you talked me into this.” Crowley said to Aziraphale, turning to look at him. His angel had the most delighted expression that Crowley had ever seen. He was glad to be wearing sunglasses, because Aziraphale’s smile was blindingly bright. “Oh.. Crowley.. you look absolutely dashing!” He said, somehow managing to smile even wider. Crowley tried his best to look disgusted, but it was hard when he was being looked at like that. “When exactly did the definition of dashing change to ‘resembling an old couch’? Because that’s the only way I could describe.. this.” Crowley gestured at his outfit vaguely. It was a suit, the same style and cut as he would normally wear.. except for one detail: the entirety of the suit jacket was made of tartan. Crowley turned back to the mirror, scowling and adjusting his tie, which was thankfully black. Aziraphale’s beaming face was still in view in the reflection. “Oh, really Crowley, this was your idea.” He said.

Unfortunately, it was.

They had been drunk off their arses, in Crowley’s flat, instead of the usual spot in the back room of Aziraphale’s bookshop. “I’m.. I’m gonna, gonna get more... alchlolohol.” Crowley said. He was too drunk to remember that he could simply summon more. He grabbed a bottle from the pantry, which solely contained wine. He began to stumble back to the table, looking at Aziraphale. As he walked, he noticed the pink flush that had spread on his angel’s cheeks, the lamp in the room making his eyes- ““FUCK!” Crowley yelled. He had walked directly into a chair, dropping the wine, which shattered. Aziraphale burst into a fit of laughter, attempting to cover it with his hand but failing miserably as Crowley attempted to fix the bottle, also failing. “Oh.. My dear..” Aziraphale attempted to speak in the midst of his laughter, “Are you.. are you alright?” He managed to say. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alright, no thanks to you.” Crowley growled. This seemed to calm Aziraphale down, who looked at him earnestly. “I’m sorry, Crowley, I really didn’t mean to laugh that hard, it was just- well you ran right into the chair.” He collapsed into a fit of giggles, “I also think I may be extremely drunk.” Crowley sat down, “Really, it wasn’t my fault, it’s these blessed sunglassssssesss. Ssunglasses, I mean. I can’t see a bloody thing when it’s nighttime. You try wearing them for a day, see how well you’d do!” 

Aziraphale snorted, “No thank you, Crowley.” And Crowley saw an opportunity. “Awww, c’mon Angel! Flip a coin for it, like old timess?” He saw Aziraphale’s twinkling eyes soften. “Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.. heads.” Crowley then realized that they needed a coin, and somehow managed to summon one, flipping it though the air, over and over and over until it landed on the table.. heads facing upwards. “Ha! I win! Hold on a moment.. we never said what I get if I win..” Aziraphale said, and Crowley blessed under his breath. “How about.. you wear tartan. For a day.” Crowley choked on air. “What?!!! Absolutely not! Absolutely not! ABSSSOLUTELY NOT! If I’d have known, I’d have, I’d have never agreed!” Aziraphale held up a knowing finger, seeming to have a revelation, “Aha! However, my dear fellow, you did not, in fact, know! And you agreed! It’s only.. only.. Fair! Only fair, Crowley.” “No. There is no way I will ever put that bloody material on my body. It would be like falling again! Falling from.. from.. from being Me!” Crowley and Aziraphale both were quiet for a moment st the mention of the fall, before Aziraphale spoke softly, “Please, Crowley?” And he looked at Crowley with those big, beautiful, sparkling blue eyes, and.. and.. Crowley knew he’d lost.

So now, here they were, tartan adorned, the two of them, like some sort of ridiculous couples costume where they dressed as curtains. “Really, Crowley, don’t look so glum. Tartan is coming back in fashion! I saw a celebrity wearing it, on the telly!” Aziraphale put a hand on each of Crowley’s shoulders, turning him his direction, “And you really do look dashing.” He said. Crowley was determined, though, and pouted dramatically, “I don’t care how dashing I look, I can’t go outside like this.” Aziraphale’s smile faltered, and his brows furrowed. “Well.. I suppose you don’t have to wear it all day if you don’t want to..” He went to slide his hands off of Crowley’s shoulders dejectedly, only for Crowley to grab them. “Oh, alright, fine, you win. I really don’t see how I’m the one called the Tempter.” Immediately, Aziraphale’s bright smile returned, and he squeezed Crowley’s hands. “Oh, I just knew you’d come around! Look, you won’t even need to go outside, we can just stay here. Have I told you that I love you?” Crowley tried to look aloof, but it came out as a flustered cartoon character, and he spoke softly, “I love you too, Angel.” Then, Aziraphale kissed his cheek, and Crowley could almost forgive the fact that he was wearing tartan.

Almost.


End file.
